


A Kamui’s Worst Nightmare

by tiedyeflag



Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: 2nd pov challenge, washing machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6181327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiedyeflag/pseuds/tiedyeflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’ve been washed by that oblivious housewife before, and it was anything but pleasant. In a word, awful. However, today you will learn of an even more horrifying washing technique.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kamui’s Worst Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This one was from about a year ago for a fanfic contest, and I won 2nd place out of 18 contestants! All the other entries were great, and I was so honored to be in the top 3! I hope y'all enjoy it too!

You begin to stir from your slumber. When you open your eye, all you can see is cloth. Dirty, sweaty, stinky cloth. (How you were able to smell it despite the lack of a nose was a mystery to you, however.)

“H-hey, where am I?!” You try to move, but you’re helplessly buried in the heavy pile of clothes.

“Ryuko?” You cry. “Ryuko?! Where are you?!” Your voice sounds muffled though all this laundry.

Wait…laundry.

And you also hear someone humming a chirpy tune from the outside world.

Oh no…even though the thick barrier of fabric, you can still recognize the carefree hum. You just know it belongs to Mrs. Mankanshoku.

“Oh no, no, no, no, NO!” You cringe nervously. The last time that woman got her hands on you, she nearly ripped you apart with a scrub brush, drowned you in twenty gallons of detergent, and-

“Okay, time to try out this thing!” Her words cut your thoughts off and replace your train of thought with different ones.

“Huh? What ‘thing’?” 

A second later you feel the weight on top of you lighten. Soon light seeps through the seams of clothes. Before you know it the washcloth covering your eye is lifted, revealing Mrs. Mankanshoku’s face. She tosses the towel out of your line of sight, and it lands somewhere with a soft thud.

You flinch as her hands reach out towards you. Your sleeves are still stuck in the other clothes around you, so you can’t do anything but stare. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from shouting at her from the top of your lungs-if you had lungs, of course.

“M-Mrs. Mankanshoku! Wait, don’t! I-I don’t know what you’re doing, but whatever you do, please do NOT wash me! I beg of you!!”

Her fingers curl snugly around your sleeves and lift you up.

“Wait, just stop!! Don’t wash me!!!”

She turns with you still in her grasp, unaware of your frantic wriggling.

 “The only one I allow to wash me is Ryuko!! Now where is she?!”

All of your protests fall on the brown haired housewife’s deaf ears. She plops you into a small compartment filled with other articles of clothing.

Your eyes skim over the metallic, smooth walls of this strange space. Rust splotched a few areas of the cylinder shaped room. You continue to eye this cell suspiciously, puzzled, not registering the extra clothes the woman stuffed in.

It’s not until after she pours a cup of slimy blue liquid into the room and slams the glass door shut do you snap out of your trance. The echo of the closed door sent your heart plunging into the depths of horror. 

“Hey!” You worm over to the window and bang your rolled up sleeve cuff against the slightly cracked glass. “Let me out!! Open the door!!!” You hit the glass even harder, but receive no response. All you can see is the lower half of Mrs. Mankanshoku’s apron though the window. A moment later you hear the hum of machinery around you, and feel the vibrations of some contraption starting up. Terrified, you press your backside to the glass and frantically eye your prison.

Icy cold water pours out from everywhere, soaking into your life fibers. Oh, how you  _hate_  cold water. Every thread in your stitching shivers as the water continues to flood the cell. Then the whole room shifts-literally jerking around like an earthquake. Even worse, the unknown liquid the housewife slipped in began to bubble up, entering your mouth with a nasty tang.

“Uck-blech-gack-stop, just stop!!” You sputter between mouthfuls of detergent. What on earth was this thing, a kamui torture device?!

The room starts to rotate sideways at top speed, sending you tumbling around and around with the other clothes. Your mind grows dizzy as the world through the glass door spins before you. Soap and water muffles your surroundings in a sickening way.

“Help! Ryuko, help me!!” You yell desperately. “Somebody, HELP!! Make it stop!!!”

Suddenly, everything jerks to a stop, as if someone had pushed the pause button on a TV show. The glass door opens swiftly, and a girl with black hair and a red highlight pokes her head into the prison.

“Senketsu!!”

She grabs you roughly and snatches you out of the torture chamber, still dripping wet. You refocus your eye on her face and recognize your savior.

“R-Ryuko!!” You cry and embrace her tightly. Tears of joy flood out of your eye as they soak into her orange, bunny-print pajamas. 

“There, there, hold the waterworks, buddy.” She pats your shoulders gently. You sniff and hold back the rest of your tears. 

“Oi, Mrs. Mankanshoku, why’d you put Senketsu in that beat up old thing?” Ryuko questions while pointing at a worn down, cube shaped device big enough to fit a load of laundry. 

“Well, Mataro found this washing machine at the dump.”  She pats the white appliance like a pet. “My husband managed to fix it and I wanted to try it out-and I figured Senketsu would like it, too!”

“You thought I’d like  _that_  torture contraption?!” You shout. “I was nearly torn to shreds in that thing!!”

“Easy there, Senketsu.” Ryuko whispers to you. “Nobody can hear you but me, remember?”

You huff a sigh, a bit humiliated; you’ve been shouting at the woman nearly the whole time, letting that simple fact slip from your mind in your panic.

“From now on, leave Senketsu to me, okay?” The raven haired girl told the brunette woman.

“Okay, if you insist.”

“Great. Well, c’mon, Senketsu.” She begins to walk away with you in her arms, “I’ve got to dry you off.”

Thank heavens, you think. Just as long as it’s done by anyone but that housewife.

Oh, and any sort of machinery. You’ve had enough of fancy devices for a day.


End file.
